


The Rubber Chicken Love Story

by debbiechan



Category: Big Marvel
Genre: Ethereal Music, K-pop References, Or Is It?, Other, Rubber Chicken, Unrequited Love, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debbiechan/pseuds/debbiechan
Summary: Now for something completely different. A love story between a rubber chicken and the YouTube phenomenon Big Marvel, who has over 4 million subscribers. Does the talented, pretty boy South Korean musician really love his chicken or is he just playing her squeezebox?





	The Rubber Chicken Love Story

 

When he touched her, he made her body sing.

She was a rubber chicken, and he was a young South Korean man with a YouTube channel. He could make his flute cry, a coke bottle resonate like the mysteries of the soul, and a toy gayageum screech like murdered peasants from the Joseon era.

Did he love her, or was he playing her for a fool?

He always petted her neck after a song was over. He had large, beautiful fingers. He called himself Big Marvel. To her, he was the Whole World.

He never broke a smile. His face was called “expressionless,” “deadpan,” “Buster Keaton” by his fans. For some, it was full of woe; for others, full of love. He was hard to read. He was a man of Mystery.

He was certainly obsessed with chickens. Even when she didn’t appear with him in a video, he ate chicken with sexy chewing noises. He eventually died his black hair blonde and styled it so he looked chickenish. _Maybe?_ Maybe he too hoped that there was another way a rubber chicken and a human man could love, but she knew the truth. She was rubber, and his hands could only press her squeeze-box. Their music was so beautiful because it was full of their longing—or that is what she hoped.

Oh sure, she had rivals. They arrived monthly. He bought them wholesale in a box. Sisters in plastic wrappers. Their mouths gaped for air when he freed them from their clear plastic wrapping. He used them for props. Squished but not murdered, they were run over with cars. Hidden in coat pockets or trees, they would fall, ridiculously, at the right moment so the Netizens would laugh. One was decapitated by a sword. What happened to that sister?

Would she be tossed away too? No, Big Marvel loved her. _Didn’t he?_ She was the only one he made sing.

He brought her to the streets, to his sofa, to the shower where her ears filled with water, and her pain and love sang “My Heart will Go On.”

The humans laughed. Did he want their laughter more than he needed her love? How long would he need her for human attention? When he became a Big Star on the Billboard as a beat-boxing rapper-flautist K-pop superstar, would she be forgotten in a drawer with her sisters? _No! Are you kiddin me, idia?_

As time passed, she worried less that her fate would be that of her rubber chicken sisters, and she worried more about human rivals. Big Marvel (oh he was big—she was so little and vulnerable in his magical hands) began to duet with human women. They were attractive by human standards; they sang with fine voices. Of course, he never touched them, never smiled, and oh never could their voices compare to a rubber chicken’s melancholy. For it was her, _her alone_ in tune with the most sensitive artist alive.

But he tried so hard to make them laugh.

Was she a mere tool to him? He would hold her so close to this singer or that singer’s human face. He would press the squeeze-box in harmony to the human’s singing!  Was this flirting? But he would always turn her face to his. He would always pet her neck after every song and turn his face heavenward. Was it his way of saying _You, woman, can never be my chicken? You, woman, can not sing like my beautiful chicken?_ Or was he proving his rubber chicken’s worst fear? That with the mere presence of human women--like the BTS song he made her sing over and over, theirs was a “Fake Love?”

It didn’t matter if he truly loved her; she wanted to be in his hands for as long as possible.

Maybe he wouldn’t hit it big, and they would be together forever. For all his good looks and musical talent, he was a terrible dancer, and one day on the Instagram, she saw him dancing and _his pants fell off._ There was a glimpse of something that would not have passed the YouTube regulations.

 _His career is over in South Korea_ , she thought. _This could be a scandal, ha._

If she could only squeak without him, she would’ve have. Next time he touched her, she told herself she would let out an unexpected high-pitched note.

She felt her rubber chicken heart soar with hope. Like that time she had sang “Chickenpella” with his friends, surrounded by happy voices and a vague premonition that she was like a princess in Disney story. That for all her troubles, she would get her man.

_Yes, he is mine. Forever._

_[Chickenpella by Big Marvel  SUBSCRIBE TO HIS CHANNEL & BE HAPPY](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8e9GhwBuKI) _


End file.
